Sleep
by Hyperqbe
Summary: What Sanzo thinks when he can't sleep...but the others can. Mild Shounen-ai. Some sexual situation.


Gods.  
  
My head is too full. Has been for far too long, for that matter. Serenity? Don't make me laugh.  
  
What am I? A man? The memory of a god? Are they not the same thing?  
  
The sigh leaves my chest feeling empty, crushed. I need a cigarette.  
  
I need sleep.  
  
Sleep is a fickle bitch.  
  
She loves the others, though, oh yes she does. Wraps them in her warm soft embrace, whispers gentle reassurances in their trusting ears, eases them down into the velvet dark.  
  
I hate the way they can sleep, sometimes. Especially the monkey.  
  
Just look at him, over there on a bed of straw and dust, sprawled out as if he lay on finest silk and feathers. He sleeps the sleep of the innocent, for he is innocence and wildness personified.  
  
Through my envy, I cannot help but smile.  
  
I am careful to make no sound as I search for that damn cigarette. Hakkai sleeps soundly, true, but he wakes easily when the mood strikes him, and I want to be alone a little longer this grey morning.  
  
Gojyo could sleep through the end of the world.  
  
Him, and the monkey.  
  
Wait. There, near Gojyo's head, nearly hidden beneath the crimson strands: a pack of smokes. I can feel a wolfish grin claim my face, but I don't care. One of those tight-rolled bitches will be mine.  
  
I walk as the tiger, feet soft and silent against the gritty wooden floor. My prey, unknowing. The guardian of that prey, oblivious.  
  
With the softest rustle I kneel next to the sleeping half-demon, praising in my thoughts the effects of bourbon on his nervous system. He is out cold. My hand pauses as if defying me, as if it does not want to touch that soft flare of crimson for fear it might be burned. I smile at myself, and at the memory of a boy's confusion. I reach down with the sureness of a snake striking.  
  
Gojyo mumbles in his sleep, though it is not his pilfered cigarette pack he is dreaming about. That much is plainly clear. His hand drifts down to ease the visible ache, sleep holding him in a warm, perverse spirit. I back away, the cigarettes safely in my keeping until he wakes.  
  
"Kyuu?"  
  
Hush, I breathe. The little dragon watches me, accusing, knowing. I silently promise to pay Gojyo back with two packs later on. And a Zippo, if I can find one. Those are the best, of course. Damn near unbreakable.  
  
My hands are shaking as I approach the door. It's on the far wall from the sleepers, and I don't want them to hear me light up. As I said, Hakkai can wake quickly if he wants to.  
  
Luck is with me. It lights cleanly on the first strike. As the bitter-sweet smoke blesses me with its calm, I lean back against the doorframe and again watch my companions sleeping. I frown a little at what I see.  
  
Hakkai is lying perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his chest. I think he's faking. I wonder why.  
  
Gojyo is putting on quite the show, molesting his own hand and a knot of blankets in a slow and sensuous dance. His lips are parted, his hair tangled beneath his head. When his tongue darts out to touch his lips I realize that he, too, is feigning sleep.  
  
He knows I'm watching.  
  
I feel my face burn. I take a deep drag on the cigarette and try to find something else to look at.  
  
Goku is sleeping. He lies on his side, curled up like the child he is. Soft snores bounce around him, the murmurs of breath a lullaby. If he hears Gojyo's antics, he sleeps on in spite of it. But I don't think he hears anything.  
  
Gojyo is gasping softly now, trying to keep quiet, or trying to quietly make noise. I'm really not sure which. He is such a pervert. For all I know, those blazing eyes are about to snap open and ask me if I enjoyed watching him.  
  
If they do, my body will betray me. Fuck it. It's nice to be reminded that we're not dead yet, even if that reminder aches. It's better than the alternative.  
  
Gojyo lets out a soft moan, and I see something for the first time that I should have seen ages ago. Hakkai is aroused. His forehead is beaded with a fine mist of sweat, his full lips are softly parted, his face a mask of desire. With every tiny sound from Gojyo, Hakkai seems to tremble. And now I know.  
  
I cannot block the sounds, but I can look away, so I do, even though my own body begs for.what? What do I want, here? My hands are unwilling; besides, I need them to hold onto the cigarette and the doorframe.  
  
Desperate for calm, I search the room for inspiration.  
  
Goku is sleeping.  
  
A few more breaths and I am calm, hard-on notwithstanding. It will pass. I am in control of my desires, and it will pass.  
  
Gojyo moans softly, his handsome face a mask of lust.  
  
Hakkai gasps sharply. His lithe body jerks beneath his blanket.  
  
The two of them drift back into sleep, sated.  
  
I marvel at them. Though they did not touch, they had just shared the most intimate, erotic moment I had ever been weird enough to witness.  
  
I still ache.  
  
Oblivious, Goku sleeps on.  
  
I hate the way they can sleep, sometimes. 


End file.
